The Hidden Journal

Some people arrive like sunlight —
bright, warm,
filling every corner before you even know their name.

Others come quietly,
soft as rain,
changing you without trying to.

───

Not everyone who enters is meant to stay.
Some just pass through —
a whisper, a lesson,
a reflection of what you were ready to see.

───

I used to lock every door after someone left,
afraid of the echo they’d leave behind.
But now I know:
the emptiness after love
is just space being cleared for what’s next.

───

Some visitors stay as memory.
Some stay as peace.
A few become part of the walls themselves —
woven into who I am,
without needing to be seen again.

───

I don’t rush them anymore —
the arrivals, the goodbyes,
the quiet in between.
They’re all part of how this house breathes.

───

— Desiree